i mourn thro' the gay, gaudy day,

as hopeless i muse on thy charms;

but wee the dream o' sweet slumber,

for then i am lockt in thine arms—jessy.

here's a health, &c.

i guess by the dear angel smile,

i guess by the love-rolling e'e;

but why urge the tender confession,

'gainst fortune's fell, cruel decree?—jessy.

here's a health, &c.